The Feeling of a Mouse
by Dylexa
Summary: To feel small and insignificant. As he stares at the reflection in the mirror, he realizes he only sees a stranger. His body is bare and raw, he feels vulnerable. He has no more feathers to pluck from his own body, his feathers now scraps scattered at his feet. He looks away from the mirror, disgusted. This is what he is reduced to, and there's one man to claim the blame; McFist.
1. Chapter 1

**The Feeling of a Mouse**

 **Chapter One**

"Randy?"

He hardly registered the voice calling his name. A feeling inside his gut told him to open his eyes, but he couldn't remember why he would need to. It felt so good to relax and keep his eyes closed, so he chose to ignore the feeling.

 _"Just five more minutes..."_

"Mr. Cunningham!"

Randy gasped, startled by the change of tone in the voice. He opened his eyes, pulling his head away from his desk. At the front of the classroom, sitting at his own desk, was his science teacher, Mr. Dildine. Randy snapped his head left and right, realizing that the rest of the desks in the classroom were empty. When he looked up at the clock, he saw that it was five minutes after three. School was already over.

"Oh jeeze!" Randy exclaimed. "D-did I fall asleep?"

"This is the third time this week, Mr. Cunningham."

Randy felt his face beginning to burn up. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, looking down at his lap, too embarrassed to look at his teacher.

"Sorry."

Randy glanced at his desk, looking for his school supplies, but the desk was empty, not counting his drool. He quickly used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe the drool off. He started swinging his feet from his chair, his legs feeling as if they had been filled with helium.

His foot suddenly hit his pencil case, which he remembered was still open, and now most likely spilling pencils.

Randy heard his teacher sigh, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Mr. Cunningham. I know you don't want to hear this, but, I'm concerned that I may have to call your mother."

"What?! Can't you just give me detention?"

"And what's that going to do?"

He felt his face flush even more. At this point, it was probably hot enough to fry an egg.

"I dunno," Randy mumbled, kicking his pencil case again.

He pushed his seat back, but did not move to put his stuff away. The clutter of his papers, folders, and pencils bugged him. However, he was afraid to pack up, unsure how Mr. Dildine would respond. He was not planning to run off. It was just messy, and he could not fully focus on anything else. Although, the idea that his mom was going get involved buzzed angrily in the back of his mind. His head was so foggy that he felt as if his body was paralyzed, leaving him stuck to stare blankly at the mess at his feet.

His teacher was quiet for a few moments, but those moments seemed to drag out for years.

"Randy, can I ask you something?"

Randy shrugged, still staring down at the mess.

"I guess."

"I just, I can't understand what's going on. You seem like a good kid. And you were doing well at the start of the year."

He glanced up at Mr. Dildine for a moment, but looked back down when their eyes met.

"Biology's just not my thing," Randy said. "I mean, I did fail the class last year. Sorry."

Randy wondered for a brief moment if that was the wrong thing to say, but Mr. Dildine continued to speak calmly.

"Is, everything okay, at home?"

Randy felt his throat grow tight. He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth.

The fact that someone, especially his teacher, was actually concerned enough to ask, felt odd. He assumed that because he was failing science, yet again, it would mean that Mr. Dildine would mark him off as no more than an idiot who didn't have any problem more significant than the assumption.

The truth was, Randy always called himself an idiot when he stepped into this class room, day after day, in a room full of freshman.

Mr. Dildine was a nice teacher. He had a high reputation around the school, even from the "delinquents" of the school. He even laughed with the kids who replaced the last three letters of his name with an "o".

So there was a part of Randy that was tempted to be honest with his teacher. The opportunity to have a way to release his anxiety was practically screaming in his face.

But he knew that he could not allow himself to reveal too much. He would have to come up with so many lies, just to hide his identity as the ninja from Mr. Dildine. It just seemed like too much work, and Randy did not have the energy for that.

Besides, Mr. Dildine probably had enough going on in his own life. Randy's problems would just be a burden on him.

"I'm fine," Randy said quietly.

His teacher was silent once again. Randy looked up, his curiosity getting the better of him. Mr. Dildine was frowning at him, his eyebrows raised in bewilderment.

Randy bit his lip.

"I'm fine, really," he insisted. "I won't fall asleep anymore. Can I go now? I've got a lot of homework this weekend."

Not that he was going to start it early. Even if he wanted to, something was always interrupting him. Sometimes it was because Howard was texting him. Other times his mom wanted his help with something. Many times however, it was because a monster was attacking the city. And sometimes, he literally just _could not_ do it. There had been several times Randy had spent literally _hours_ just staring at his homework, because it was that difficult for him to even read the directions.

Another sigh escaped Mr. Dildine's lips.

"Yes. You may go."

"Thanks."

Randy quickly shoved his stuff into his bag, not even bothering to put the papers or pencils in their separate containers. Then he stood, picking up his bag. He was about to step out the door, when Mr. Dildine spoke once more.

"My doors are open any time you need. I don't judge a student for their grades."

Randy stopped, his foot in the hallway. The sounds of his fellow classmates were beginning to fade, already half of the student body out of the building.

Gripping the strap of his satchel, Randy nodded, unable to look at his teacher any more.

"Thanks."

He quickly left the classroom, his legs still tingling and jittery. He couldn't wait to get home, so he could get into bed and forget about school and everything else for a few hours.

As Randy reached his locker, he felt his pocket vibrate. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. When he turned it on, he saw that there was a message from Howard.

Randy grunted, and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He quickly unlocked his locker, grabbed his jacket, and slammed the door shut, before making his way to the exit of the building as fast as he could.

He knew Howard was probably looking for him, but he felt like this was not a good time to see him. Randy felt like if he couldn't go to sleep soon, he was going to pass out.

As Randy exited the building, he kept his eyes to the ground.

The young teen was aware that it was probably rude to avoid his friend. Yet he was too tired to really care. Besides, lately it seemed like every time they did try to do something, their time together was cut short, mostly due to an attack at school or in the city.

Despite the fact that the robot attacks had decreased dramatically over the last year, Randy was still overwhelmed. The Sorcerer on the other hand, attacked so frequently, that it was starting to amaze Randy that he had managed to keep everything under control for this long.

Even though he knew he could not control his busy schedule, he still felt guilty, always having to abandon Howard to do his job. That wasn't what a good friend was supposed to do.

At this point, Randy felt like it was too much work to even deal with his guilt. It was just easier to avoid it. Things would hopefully work out on their own, eventually.

Randy reached the cross light without any conflict. He felt a tension lift from his neck. He looked up and inhaled the cool air.

It would still take about another month before the plants outside would start to bloom. Although Randy was already noticing subtle hints that told him that spring was coming soon. The wind was starting to feel warmer, no longer having the ice outside to accompany it. He could even smell an earthy scent that reminded him that it had rained this morning.

The cross light changed lights, telling Randy that he could walk. He looked both ways, before crossing. When he got to the other side of the road, he turned left, starting his journey home.

It took Randy about twenty minutes to get home.

When he saw the outlines of his house at the end of the block, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He jogged the rest of the way home.

Excitedly, he hurried to the porch, running up the wooden stairs, fishing around in his pockets, almost frantic for his keys.

Luckily, they were actually where they were supposed to be this time.

He pulled his keys out and stuck one of them in the lock. It took a couple minutes of jiggling with the lock for him to get the lock to turn.

With a loud grunt, he yanked the door open.

"Ug, stupid keys!"

He slammed the door shut behind him, spotting the couch in the living room. He walked up to it, dropping his bag at his feet, before plopping down onto the couch, face first into a pillow. Randy smiled, turning on his side to get more comfortable. He closed his eyes, already starting to feel the gentle lull of sleep pull him under.

His mother would be home earlier than usual, only in a few hours. That meant that he only had a little bit of time to himself tonight. But that walk had taken the remaining energy he had had right out of him. All he wanted to do now was sleep.

More than happy with this decision, he relaxed, feeling his muscles melt into the plush leather couch. He felt so comfortable, so right, that it only took a few minutes until he was out like a light.

…

"Randy? Are you here? I'm home!"

Randy opened his eyes, squinting as he adjusted to the light from the living room. He yawned, sitting upright on the couch as his mother entered the room.

"Hey Mom. How was work?"

Randy's mother, Elizabeth Cunningham, was a nurse at the hospital in Norrisville. Usually she worked several hours of the day, often unable to come home until the late evening, or sometimes even later. It was very rare that she was able to come home early.

Ms. Cunningham took a seat next to him on the couch. She looked at him and smiled.

"For a shorter work day, they sure wrung a lot out of me. The hospital was really busy today. But it wasn't a bad day."

"Well, that's good."

Ms. Cunningham nodded. She frowned, staring at him quietly, absentmindedly toying with one of her blonde curls. He allowed her to stare for a minute, until he got uncomfortable.

"What, do I have drool on my face?"

"Oh, no. But, you look pretty tired, honey."

"What? I'm fine."

Randy tried to show his mother a convincing smile, but she did not smile back.

"Have you been getting enough sleep? It's been hard to get you out of bed lately."

"Uh, w-well, you know what they say. Teenagers usually have a hard time waking up early."

Ms. Cunningham sighed.

"Randy, your teacher called me today."

He bit the inside of his cheek. He did not think that Mr. Dildine would have actually called. Of course, there had been no implications that he wouldn't have done so, but Randy had assumed that his teacher had changed his mind.

"What did he say?"

"He told me that you've been having a hard time staying awake, and that he's concerned about you."

"Well, I'm okay."

"Look, if there's something wrong, you can tell me."

"Mom, I'm fine!" Randy stood from his seat on the couch. "I just have a lot of school work. Sometimes I have to stay up a little to finish. It's not a big deal."

She stood too, clearly intent on keeping the conversation going. He wished that she would just change the subject. He said that he was fine, and he couldn't understand why she was still talking about this.

"Did you know that you're failing biology again?"

Quickly, he let his head fall down, and he looked down at his shoes. His shoelaces were untied.

"Yeah, I did. But, I'm trying to get it back up."

He did not want to deal with this now. He knew that this conversation was going to turn ugly.

"You should make sure you go to bed early. It's not helping you to stay up studying, just to miss the lesson in class."

"I know. You're right." He picked up his bag by the strap. "I'm going to my room."

"Wait—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Randy paced to the staircase, beginning to feel unbearably antsy.

" _Randy!_ "

He stopped in his tracks. With an irritated groan, he dropped his bag sloppily onto the floor, the contents of it spilling everywhere at his feet. His stomach growing tighter with knots by the second, he turned to face his mother, struggling to keep a scowl off his face.

"Okay, so I'm failing science. What else is there _to_ it?"

He felt trapped, standing at the edge of the staircase, the door to his room in complete view from where he stood, while his mother could chew him out all she wanted. He did not understand what more she could say to help him. This was not going to help him pass the class.

He did not want to look at her anymore, suddenly too intimidated. She wasn't even scowling at him, but her eyes aimed right at him just made him so anxious that he felt sick. He looked up at the clock on the opposite wall in the living room. Digital clocks were easier to read, but he knew it was close to dinnertime.

"You're not taking this seriously. If you don't get your grade up, you're going to fail again!"

Randy gritted his teeth. His jaw ached in response.

"I know, Mom! I know what's going to happen. Do you think I _wanted_ to fail?"

But he knew what she was thinking. He had had all the time in the world to get his grade up since the end of January, when he had failed the first test of the second semester. He still had no idea how he had been able to pass the first semester, but whatever happened last time clearly was not going to happen again. He knew that he was probably going to have to repeat science, again.

It wasn't like he wanted to do so poorly. Of course not—nobody actually wanted to.

He had been told several times that he needed to work hard in order to succeed at anything. That once he started trying, he could do whatever he wanted with his life. That he had "so much potential", if only he would put in the "effort".

God, he hated hearing that.

Nobody knew how hard it was for him to study. Every time he picked up his notes, it was impossible to keep his eyes on the page for more than a few seconds, whether that was due to an outside distraction, or because his notes were too sloppy, or because he was just too tired. Or sometimes he couldn't even stay focused because he was too focused on not getting distracted, up to a point where _that_ would distract him.

Sometimes it was hard to even start his homework until midnight, because it took him forever to simply to get the energy to even open a book. On top of his ninja duties, he was always exhausted, because he never had time to sleep, because he was too busy doing the homework he was unable to do earlier in the evening.

Ms. Cunningham let out a deep sigh, her own exhaustion clear on her face. Randy immediately felt guilty. He knew she had enough to deal with. It wasn't easy to be a mother, or a nurse with late hours.

Randy was always aware of how much he drained his mother. He felt terrible for doing that to her, but at the same time he did not know how to stop. He felt helpless, yet utterly responsible.

"No, Randy," Ms. Cunningham said. "I know you wouldn't want that. But I don't understand what's wrong. Are you just not studying enough?"

"What?! NO! I'm studying like honking crazy!"

He couldn't help yelling at his mother, but he immediately regretted doing so. She didn't know what he had to handle on a daily basis, and she deserved better anyways.

She gave him a look, and he immediately looked down, his face unbearably hot.

"Sorry."

Instead of scolding him, like he expected, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She exhaled slowly, opening her eyes.

"Have you looked in to finding a tutor? I heard that your school offers student tutors for free."

Randy shrugged. He didn't see the point in looking for a tutor. He was more than halfway through the school year. Besides, he was not the easiest person to teach. Especially for some kid, no matter how many A's they had.

"Sort of," he muttered.

It was easier than saying "no", but at the same time, he could not bring himself to lie.

" _Sort of?_ " his mother repeated, flabbergasted.

He rubbed his neck nervously, still unable to look at his mother.

"Sorry, Mom. I-I'll try harder, okay?"

He knew what she was thinking. That phrase had lost its meaning about three years ago.

"Fine. Okay. Dinner will be ready in an hour."

"Okay."

Ms. Cunningham walked away, leaving her son alone on the staircase. He stood there for several minutes, looking down at the mess at his feet.

He was finally able to muster enough energy to collect the spilled contents of his bag, when he felt the vibrations of the Nomicon buzz softly against his foot.

When Randy got to his room, he scooped the book back out of his bag, before dropping the bag at the door. He walked up to a beanbag and plopped down, holding the Nomicon carefully in his lap. It buzzed again, glowing a bright red.

"What now?" Randy whined, exasperated.

He opened the book, and suddenly he felt himself being "shloomped" into the Nomicon. This was a process he had grown used to by now. Yet at times, he still found himself uncomfortable, because he was literally "falling" into the Nomicon. It was especially unsettling since he never knew where he was going to land.

To his surprise, he made a perfect landing into the tops of some trees. Although he expected his rear to be poked by sharp branches, it was almost as if he was sitting back in his beanbag.

He grabbed a handful of leaves behind him, gently squeezing them. They felt cool against his hand.

"Look Nomicon, I know I'm wonking up right now. I'm an idiot and I make a shoob of a ninja. And I really don't know what to do right now."

A gentle breeze brushed his face. Randy took a moment to appreciate the coolness of the breeze. The breeze pushed his hair upward, and he turned his head in the same direction. He watched in silence as the white clouds morphed themselves into letters.

 _ **"No human can ever be perfect, not even the ninja. Even the ninja can only do so much to work on his shortcomings."**_

He bit the inside of his cheek, as his brain took its time to process the message. Despite the fact that he knew the word, his brain was stuck on the word "shortcomings".

Not a moment later, the letters from the word quickly dissolved into white mush, before the cloud changed into another word, _**"faults"**_.

Randy reread the sentence, appreciating the change.

"I mean, you're right, but, nobody could be this stupid. You know I actually try, and yet I still manage to wonk everything up. Sometimes I wonder if I'm really cut out to be the ninja. I mean, it's probably the Brucest thing that's happened to me, but still."

The message flickered in the sky for a few moments, before dissolving completely.

When he felt his hand starting to become sweaty, he let go of the leaves he was still holding on to. His hand curled into a fist.

He took a few more moments to consider the message. Unless the Nomicon wasn't telling him something, the previous ninjas were only human too. And he knew that there had been other ninjas that were nowhere near perfect, like Mac Antfee.

Then again, Mac Antfee was a maniac, yet he had been chosen to be the ninja, never changing to become a better person.

Maybe he was going to be just as much of a failure as Antfee.

Suddenly he felt something whack him in the back of his head. Randy yelped, ducking forwards in response. It had not hurt, but it was enough to surprise him. When he sat up, he only had a few moments to prepare himself for the flash of red that was aimed right for his face. He let out an awkward squawk, throwing his hands out in front of him in defense. His hands were immediately slapped with whatever had been aimed at him. He scrunched his nose when he realized that the object had exploded, turning into a mushy wet mess in his hands. He moved his arms, and looked down to find pieces of smashed apple in his hands.

"What the _juice_ , Nomicon!"

He threw the apple pieces out of the tree, shaking his hands off. He looked down at his hands again, expecting to see a sticky mess of apple juice.

The word " **no** " was spelled out in apple seeds.

Randy grimaced.

"Okay, so maybe I'm not going to be like Mac Antfee. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm a complete idiot."

He let out another squawk when he felt a seed flicked at his face, hitting him right in the nose.

"Quit it, you shoob!"

Suddenly another apple was thrown, this time hitting him right between the eyes. Randy squealed, bringing his hands up to his face to clean the mess. When he opened his eyes, he was back in his room, sitting on his beanbag. He squeezed his hands, and realized that they were no longer sticky from the apple.

He stood, putting the Nomicon gently down on the beanbag. With a tired sigh, he stretched, pulling his arms high above his head.

He was tempted to sneak out to the arcade, but he knew his mother would throw a fit if she found out. And there was no chance she wouldn't find out. There was no sneaking around with that woman. Randy had learned that the hard way, several times. And he didn't have the energy to deal with another grounding right now. There was just too much going on. And even though it was Friday night, he knew he was not allowed out of the house after dark, unless he was already at Howard's house or getting a ride there.

Not that he minded staying home. It wasn't so bad, especially when he was in his room, where he was safe from arguments with his mom about his grades, or anything else he had messed up on. Usually he was able to entertain himself with video games, or the Internet. Tumblr killed a lot of time.

But he wasn't really in the mood to do either of those things. He would never tell Howard, but video games like "Grave Punchers" weren't as fun as they used to be. Maybe he was just getting too old for them, or maybe he just needed to find something new. He needed an activity he didn't have to worry about his mother scolding him for.

Randy stood still for a few moments, before sitting back down, picking up the Nomicon and setting it down beside him. He paused, before placing it back down on his lap.

It couldn't hurt to do some training for a little while. The Nomicon would probably be happy to see its student taking his ninja training seriously. And he had at least half an hour before his mother would be knocking on his door, telling him that dinner was ready.

He opened the book, once more being sucked into the Nomicon.

...

 **Author's Note:**

 **Wow. Well after several weeks of writing and editing, along with over a year of planning, I'm finally able to publish this.**

 **First, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this, because I've got more coming soon! If you found some things that bugged you, I'm open to constructive criticism. I love constructive criticism because it helps me become a better writer. So feel free to be knit picky, if that's your style. I'm extremely knit picky too, so I won't take it personally! :3**

 **Also, I want to say thank you to a very good friend of mine. I want to thank Chihuahua Rocks, the author of the lovely fanfiction "Enter the Nomicon". I've been editing with this gal for years, and it's actually thanks to her that I even got into this "Bruce-tastic" show. Ninja show has completely taken over my life, thanks to her and her fic. She's also been super helpful with this story, and I really appreciate that. So Chihuahua, thank you so much!**

 **I will try to keep you guys up to date on the progress of each chapter. I'm going to put how much done I have of chapter two as a percentage on my profile after I publish this. I will do my best to keep it up to date, so you guys can know how I'm doing on each chapter.**

 **Once school starts up again in September, I will become a bit busy, especially because I'm also looking for a job. But I probably won't be completely swamped, since it's my senior year, and since I usually have tendencies to put off school work to goof off.**

 **Another thing. This may be more apparent later, but I'm behind on season two. I'm planning to catch up as soon as possible, but there will most likely be some details that conflict with details from ninja show. It shouldn't take away from the quality of the plot, but I'm just warning you now so you're not surprised later.**

 **Finally, a disclaimer. I do not own ninja show, or any details from ninja show. "Randy Cunningham: 9th grade Ninja" belongs to the two awesome dudes who wrote the show.**

 **Well, thanks again for reading chapter one of my story. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did when I wrote it!**

 **Don't forget to leave a comment! :3**

 **Later!**

 **-Dylexa**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Feeling of a Mouse**

 **Chapter Two**

"Time's up. Put your pencils down, and hand over your quiz to the person seated next to you."

Bewildered, Randy stared at the incomplete quiz on his desk, his stomach tight with shame. Just looking at the empty spots beneath the cold printed numbers made him want to run away.

He envied the carpet beneath his sneakers. At least _it_ didn't have to feel so afraid of being in this room. Plus, it did its job right, and nobody ever judged the dirty piece of fabric.

"Randy, your time is up. Hand your quiz over to Debbie."

He looked up at his fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Wolfe. She glared back at him, as if she was staring at a hardened criminal.

"Sorry," he mumbled, sliding his quiz over to the desk on his right. Another paper was passed over to him.

"All right, class. When you get a crayon, you can write your name on the bottom of the quiz, so I know who graded it. I'll go over the answers as soon as everyone gets a crayon."

Randy looked down at Debbie's paper. Although the entire quiz had been written in pen, the paper still looked flawless. Debbie's handwriting was not only legible, it was neat. Even her name was written in perfect cursive.

It must have been nice for Debbie to be good at everything. Mrs. Wolfe adored her, and the teacher let everyone else in the classroom know it. Debbie was always praised, always called on, always given special privileges. She was the only one in class allowed to write in pen, and she was always receiving rewards for her "hard work".

Randy wished he could at least be a little smarter, at least enough to blend in with the rest of the class. Every moment he wasn't in school, he dreaded going back. Mrs. Wolfe always picked on him. Whenever he thought about school, he felt helpless and alone. He couldn't even stay home and avoid it, because he had already faked being sick several days this year.

Yet, it wasn't like Randy could blame Mrs. Wolfe for the way she treated him. He knew that he was stupid. He couldn't even memorize his times tables, even after he had _tried_.

His mother had insisted that it was easy, that it was " _just_ " memorizing.

But it wasn't easy. Not for him. He absolutely hated memorizing. It was just so boring. Also, no matter how hard he tried, he could never keep any of the information in his head. He felt so helpless whenever he was asked to memorize anything. The whole ordeal of "memorizing" was just so overwhelming, because he was always reminded of what he could not do.

Randy knew that there was something wrong with him.

Maybe that was why Mrs. Wolfe hated him.

Or, maybe, that was why his dad had left. Maybe he had grown sick of raising such a stupid kid.

A black crayon was dropped on his desk. Randy picked it up, and sloppily scribbled his name down at the bottom of the quiz. When he was done, he put the crayon down, resting his head in his hand. He stared at the name tag on his desk, tracing the "R" of his name with his eyes. His teacher had written all of the name tags for the students, in her perfect, almost computer-like hand writing.

Randy frowned. He wondered how some people could be so good at producing good handwriting. He couldn't keep good handwriting, because it always took so much time, and his teacher hated "slackers".

"Psst."

Randy flinched when he felt a sharp poke to the arm. He turned his head to the right, his eyes meeting with Debbie's. She pointed at the paper on her desk. Randy couldn't help but notice that there were already some answers crossed out by neat, waxy pink X's.

"Oh."

He picked up his crayon and looked up at his teacher, who was writing numbers on the board. He looked at the numbers and started comparing them with the numbers on Debbie's quiz.

He was able to finish grading the quiz quickly, as there were only a couple of wrong answers.

Randy was about to put his crayon down, when took another look at one of the answers that he had crossed out.

That was weird. He thought multiplying five and six together would create the number 30. Why had his teacher said the answer was 25?

He was about to check the board again, wondering if he had made a mistake, but Mrs. Wolfe was already erasing the answers. As his teacher began to speak again, he felt his face flush hotly, knowing he had done something wrong.

"Hand the quizzes back to the person you traded with."

Randy quickly pushed Debbie's quiz back to her desk. His own quiz was passed back to him. Immediately, he turned it over, too ashamed to look at the pink X's that he knew would be on almost every answer.

He swallowed down hard on the lump that was growing in his throat. His mother was going to be angry. She had not gotten angry yet, but he knew she ought to be. He felt like a failure, both as a son, and as a person.

"Randy."

Randy snapped his head up, looking at his teacher, who was standing at his desk. She was holding a handful of quizzes in one hand, and a separate quiz in the other. He recognized Debbie's handwriting on the separate paper.

"Y-yeah?"

Mrs. Wolfe snatched Randy's quiz. She looked at it for a moment, before glaring back at him. Randy shrunk, sliding deeper into his seat, wishing he could slip into the carpet beneath his feet.

"Why did you grade Debbie's quiz incorrectly?"

"What?"

"You marked correct answers as if they were wrong."

"I-I," Randy stammered.

"Mrs. Wolfe, I don't think he—" Debbie started.

"Debbie works hard to get good grades. Maybe if you put in the effort, you wouldn't have to lie to feel better about your own failures. You're banned from grading quizzes for the rest of the year."

He opened his mouth to speak, but Mrs. Wolfe turned around, and finished collecting the rest of the quizzes. Randy bit his lip, his thoughts suddenly turning hazy. The only thing that he could think about was the idea that he was a failure. This single thought repeated in his head over and over again, like a broken record that was set to repeat itself for eternity, if nobody bothered to stop it. Of course nobody would stop it. Compared to the rest of the records in the world, it was as if this single record was being muffled beneath a pillow.

Randy wrinkled his nose, unable to stop the tears—

 ** _SCREEEEEECH!_**

Randy gasped. He yanked the blankets away from his clamy body, and shot up, completely pencil straight. He pricked his ears, trying to figure out what had woken him, when he registered a loud buzzing sound going off underneath him. Grasping on to the railing, Randy leaned over his bed, looking down at the floor. In the darkness of his room, he saw a bright red glow flashing wildly on his bedroom floors.

"What the _hell_!"

Randy quickly crawled over to the ladder of his bed, before scurrying down it as fast as he could. He rushed over to the source of the bright red light, scooping it up into his arms. It shrieked loudly, as if it was a child that had been struck.

"Stop! You're gonna wake my mom up!"

The Nomicon trembled violently in his arms, continuing to flash uncontrollably. Randy held on to it tightly, hardly able to keep his grasp on the book. He sat down on a bean bag, putting the book in his lap. The Nomicon let out another howl. Randy squeaked, and pulled the book close to his chest, trying to muffle the sound.

"Randy? What is going _on_ in there?!"

Randy yelped, dropping the book onto the floor. He heard his mother knock a couple of beats on his door.

"Ah jeeze, sorry! I, um, I left a movie on!" Randy placed his other beanbag on top of the Nomicon. "I-I must have fallen asleep on the remote. I just turned the TV off, so everything's fine, Mom."

From behind the door, he could hear his mother let out a deep sigh.

"Okay. Go to sleep, all right, honey? I know it's a Friday, but you have a lot of homework to do this weekend."

Randy resisted the urge to whine.

"Okay. Night."

A few moments later, Ms. Cunningham's footsteps trailed off into the house. Randy sat still, until he heard a door shut at the end of the hallway. Then he pulled the beanbag off from the Nomicon. It was still glowing, but it had become mute.

He picked up the book and placed it back on his lap.

"What the juice, Nomicon," Randy said, exasperated, pulling the cover of the book open. "The _neighbors_ probably heard you."

He was sucked into the Nomicon, and fell through the usual vortex, before landing into a pond, the water splashing loudly under his weight. He sank a couple of feet underwater, before he swam back up to the surface. Randy crawled out of the pond, getting up on wobbly feet, then shook his arms, trying to shake water droplets from his clothes.

"Okay, couldn't this wait until morning?" Randy huffed, feeling cranky now that he was wet and cold.

But there was no response. Looking around, he saw that he was completely alone. Even the sky was empty, aside from the moon, which appeared to be doodled into the sky with black and white ink, jutting out absurdly from the night sky.

Randy raised a brow, feeling the discomfort of confusion settling deep into his gut.

"Hello?"

...

Elsewhere within the Nomicon, there was another person, who was also unaware of there being a separate presence inside. The small, redheaded boy was sitting under a tree, his knees drawn close to his chest. Although he appeared calm on the outside, his heart was pounding sharply in his chest, and he was struggling to keep himself from screaming once again.

Shuddering, the boy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Usually, it was not this hard to avoid moments like this, at least inside the Nomicon. Inside, he was safe, safe from harm, and safe from his own inner demons. But now, he could not avoid it. It was even a fight to keep himself from getting sick.

The boy shuddered again, burying his face within his knees. He wanted it to go away. He wanted it all to go away. There was just so much pain—

"Hello?"

He gasped. Without thinking, he stood, and bolted into the nearest set of bushes, burrowing himself deep inside. He dared to peak through the leaves.

Standing only a few feet from him was his pupil, who was looking around, unaware of the redhead's presence.

The boy placed a gloved hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle any whimpers. He hadn't remembered letting Randy inside. How on earth had he managed to pry the Nomicon open on his own?

To his horror, Randy stepped closer. He wasn't even a foot away now.

This was all happening too fast. He couldn't do it. Not now, not ever.

...

Randy sighed, frustrated. He was starting to wonder if he had just dreamed that this whole thing had happened. Maybe the Nomicon hadn't really woken him, and he was sleepwalking.

He shook his head. No, that was a stretch.

"Hello?"

He heard a gentle rustle of leaves to his right. Turning, he noticed a patch of bushes. He started walking over to them, spotting a shock of orange through deep green leaves. The odd color shone a different consistency from the leaves, and it looked soft.

It almost reminded Randy of hair.

"Hey. Is someone here?"

He thought he heard something resembling a whimper. Randy stepped closer to the bushes.

"Are—"

There was a loud splash. Before he could react, he felt something cold and wet wrap around his waist. Randy looked down, and saw a pale green tentacle squeezing him tightly. He tried to pull away, but he was yanked several feet backwards, and then submerged into water. He cried out, but the water muffled his voice, filling his mouth, nose and lungs. Randy clawed at the tentacle gripping him, but it would not budge, instead squeezing him even tighter. Another muffled cry escaped his lips, as he felt all the air being harshly wrung out of him. He couldn't even get a good grip on the tentacle, because it was too slippery. It was like trying to grab on to a wet bar of soap.

Another tentacle wrapped itself around Randy's eyes, although its grasp was much looser. Desperately, he wrapped his fingers around the tentacle, and with all of the strength he could muster, he tugged at it, successfully removing it from his face.

But when he opened his eyes, he was back in his bedroom, lying down on his stomach, his chin sticking to the hard wooden floor.

Randy pushed himself up, leaning back into the beanbag. He squinted, looking for the Nomicon in the moonlit room. He spotted it on the floor at his feet. The book was no longer glowing.

Leaning forward, he scooped it up into his arms and set it down on his lap.

"What the juice has gotten into you?" he whispered. "First you wake me up, and now you kick me out? What was the point in calling me if you didn't want me?"

The book wouldn't respond. Not even a glow or a twitch. It just sat quietly in his arms, making him momentarily wonder if for the past two years, he had just imagined the Nomicon.

Randy exhaled. He rubbed his belly gently with the tips of his fingers, still remembering the sensation of the tentacles squeezing all of the air out of his body.

"You scared me."

Still no response.

He frowned, brushing the cover of the Nomicon carefully with the pad of his thumb.

"I think I'll just take you to bed with me tonight. I don't want you waking my mom again. You know what she would do to me if she thinks I'm still up."

Randy tucked the book into one arm, before walking back to the ladder. He climbed up carefully, only using one hand to pull himself up. Reaching the top of his bed, he put the Nomicon down on top of the mattress first, before pushing himself up to the bed. Then he picked up one of his pillows, and placed it down beside the other pillow. He took the Nomicon, and set it down gently on the pillow closer to the wall, before lying down next to it, pulling the blankets up with him.

Randy glanced at the book for a moment, before turning away, getting comfortable on his other side.

"Night."

He was not sure if it really made a difference, speaking to the Nomicon. Although it made him feel good, as if he were talking to someone who could keep him company. He liked pretending that he wasn't alone in his room. It made him feel safe.

Randy closed his eyes.

He was able to fall back asleep within minutes.

...

It was a late Saturday afternoon, when a man in a cowboy hat entered McFist Industries.

As he stepped inside, he peered around rapidly. Hidden partially by his hat, he had a pale face, resembling a sheet of paper. The man stood at the center of the waiting room, his gut tossing and turning with nausea. Even though he knew where to go to confirm his appointment, he looked down, pretending to be in deep thought.

"Are you here for an appointment?"

The man jumped. He turned to face the robo-ape seated at the receptionist desk. Just as he had remembered it from the last time he was here, the robot's face was caked in heavy layers of makeup that not even a clown could be proud of.

"Err, yes. I'm here to see Mr. McFist. My name is Charlie. Charlie Mclean."

"I'll let him know you're here. You can sit down in a chair, if you would like."

Charlie nodded, taking the seat to his right. He kept his back straight, becoming completely stiff in the chair. Trying to let his mind wander, he looked down at the carpet at his feet. Yet, it was still hard for him to relax, as he knew what was under that carpet.

He took a deep breath, inhaling the office's smells. The smell reminded him of a doctor's office, full of "clean" chemicals. He slowly exhaled, feeling his heart rate beginning to return to a normal pace. Taking in another deep breath, he felt the air fill his lungs up. He hadn't realized until now how little he had been breathing.

"Charlie."

His head snapped up in the direction of the source of the voice. Across from him was Willem Viceroy, who was stepping out of the elevator on the opposite side of the room.

"Oh. Good afternoon, Will. Anything new?"

Viceroy shrugged.

"Not really. Hasn't been for months. You?"

Charlie shook his head.

"Well, no, not really."

He expected Viceroy to respond negatively, but to his surprise, Viceroy's face stayed the same. His features were calm and relaxed, almost as if he was bored.

Viceroy shrugged again.

"I'm not surprised. It's not an easy job."

Charlie relaxed a bit, leaning back into his chair.

"It really isn't. I knew it was going to be difficult, but not like this. I mean…"

Someone entered the building. It was a man, holding a large red microwave.

Viceroy shook his head, hints of a scowl starting to form on his face.

"I probably have to go fix that. You can go up. I'll meet you there. You know which floor, right?"

He nodded, pushing himself up from the chair.

"Good luck," Charlie said.

"You too."

Sluggishly, almost like a zombie, he walked up to the elevator, and pushed the button with the arrow pointing up. He waited a few beats for the elevator to open, and once it did, he entered, the doors quickly closing behind him. He pressed another button, and just like that, the elevator started to move up. The wait almost seemed too short, because he was on the right floor in just under a minute. The elevator hadn't even stopped to let another person in from a different floor.

With a shaky breath, he stepped out of the elevator, into the hallway. At this point, he was on the floor that was McFist's living quarters of the very large building. Although, had this been Charlie's first time, he would never have guessed that. The walls, like the rest of the building, were made completely out of steel, and there was hardly anything in the hallway to decorate the place. Just looking around made him feel empty inside.

As he looked around, he noticed Marci McFist walking towards him from the other side of the hallway, wearing a huge grin on her face. Even though he had been doing this job for almost two years now, it still astounded him every time to see his boss's wife so cheerful. She knew what her husband was up to—how on earth was she so "happy" with it?

He cleared his throat as Marci finished making her way over to him.

"Why hello there, Charlie. You can follow me right this way, if you will."

He nodded silently, allowing Marci McFist to lead the way. They walked through two sets of steel hallways, before reaching a door. The door was also made from steel, and engraved into it was the title "McFist's Study". Nailed next to the door was a keypad with numbers. Marci pressed a few buttons, and the door opened with a loud crack that made Charlie flinch.

"Have fun up there," Marci said sweetly, before walking away.

For a few moments he remained still with shock at the bizarre comment.

He took another deep breath, before entering the stairway. The door slammed shut behind him. He walked up the stairs, until he got to the top, entering McFist's study. It looked different from the last time he had been there. Peering down, he noticed the new carpeting at his feet, which was a deep shade of velvet red.

"Why hello there, Mclean."

He held his breath, resisting the urge to shout in surprise. Feigning a smile, he turned to face McFist, who was sitting at his desk.

"Good afternoon, sir. Mr. Viceroy said he would be up in a few minutes. There was a customer with a question about a product."

"No need to wait," McFist said, a large, almost maniacal grin etched on his face. "I've been waiting a long time, and I want to get started. Sit down."

Charlie nodded, taking a seat across from McFist. The chair was soft and plushy, a difference from the hard plastic chairs in the waiting room.

"So, um, Mr. Viceroy didn't seem satisfied with the information on his end. What's going on with that?"

The grin slipped from McFist's face, his face contorting into a nasty scowl that resembled an angry bear.

"Our little freak is close to breaking. But the last time I interrogated him, Viceroy interrupted. He thinks I went 'too far', and is worried I almost killed him." McFist shook his head in disgust. "He won't let me see him for another week. By then he could be too healthy, and all of that time I invested into him will be wasted."

"Well, what has he been saying during your, er, _sessions_?"

McFist scoffed.

"The same lie as before. That he has no idea who the ninja is. How convenient that he had all of that information about the Necro Nomicon, or whatever the hell it's called, and yet he has no idea who the ninja is. Speaking of which, did you find the book?"

Charlie was still for a moment, before shaking his head.

"No. I looked everywhere. I even used the description that the prisoner gave me, but I can't find a book or anyone here who looks like what he described."

McFist grunted.

"He must have given us false information."

Charlie was silent, unsure of how to respond.

Suddenly they heard the sounds of a door opening. Viceroy entered the office.

"Viceroy, we can't wait a full week," McFist said, standing from his desk. "I think the freak gave us false information."

"Sir, I _told_ you, if you keep this up, you will _kill_ him! Then you'll have no information you can use! He's closer to cracking than he has been. You must—"

"No! For Christ's sake, you're too soft!"

Viceroy was visibly tense, his shoulders hunched close together. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists.

"Fine. Let's say I am too soft on the kid. Let's say I let you interrogate him today. What happens if you end up killing him because he pisses you off again? What do you do then?"

McFist growled.

"I don't know," he spat.

"Exactly. That boy is the best chance we have on finding the ninja. Without him, we're right back where we started. So you need to be patient if you don't want to end up losing him."

McFist stood still, glaring at Viceroy for several seconds. Charlie watched the display in silence, wondering if he should do something. McFist was looking at Viceroy the same way a lion looked at a deer, as it was preparing itself to catch its next meal.

Finally, McFist's features relaxed, and he sat back down at his desk.

"Fine." McFist looked up at Charlie. "Come back a week from today, after closing time. He _should_ be ready by then."

Charlie stood from his own seat.

"I'll try to see if there's anything more I can find before I see you again."

He started to make his way out of the room, anxious to leave the building, when he stopped, his hand on the railing of the stairway.

"Oh. When can you send me my next paycheck?"

McFist paused for a moment, before opening his desk. He pulled out a piece of paper and held it out for Charlie to grab. Viceroy reacted first however, taking it from McFist and bringing it to Charlie.

"Thanks for reminding me."

…

Nomi woke with a start. He shot up, panting, helpless to the grisly images that were racing circles through his mind. It took several minutes for him, until his shallow panting slowed, and he was able to breathe normally. He inhaled deeply, quietly listening to the crickets chirp outside. He tried to ignore the sounds of his own heart pounding frantically in his chest, and exhaled slowly.

As he gradually became more and more aware, his mind kept rapidly jumping back and forth between the images of the nightmare and his fruitless attempts to distract himself. When he looked out the window and tried to figure out how dark it was, he managed to relate that back to his nightmares, when he spotted the full moon.

Nomi shuddered violently, his gut twisting and churning awfully as he remembered the pain. He could still feel every punch, every kick aimed right in the stomach, the telephone wire, the fire.

He coughed quietly, his gag reflex responding to the vivid memory. With a pained grunt, he took another deep breath, desperate for the nausea to go away. He was about to lie down, when he realized he was sitting on a beanbag.

 _"What?"_ he thought.

Nomi looked around, noticing the TV on the other side of the room, and the table in front of him. Turning his head behind him, he saw the computer chair, and the frame of the bed against the wall.

With a deep sigh, he slapped his forehead with a gloved hand, shaking his head in frustration.

He didn't know how, but somehow he had managed to change forms in his sleep.

He let out another sigh. At least Randy hadn't brought him to bed this time. He wasn't sure how he would have been able to explain himself if Randy had suddenly woken to some stranger sleeping next to him in bed.

Nomi was ready to turn himself back into the Nomicon, but after a few moments, he realized that he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even though he knew that he was safe here, he felt vulnerable, and he was afraid of turning back. But at the same time, he wished he hadn't changed into his human form. He was already starting to feel the anxiety kick in, and once that was around, it wouldn't go away for a very long time. It usually was easy to prevent the feeling inside the Nomicon, but it was harder to forget once it started. And then the events from last night were floating around in the back of his mind, quickly and quietly adding to his anxiety.

He needed a distraction, and he needed it now.

It was decided. He would go out. Just for a little while, until he felt normal again.

Nomi got to his feet, pushing himself off of the beanbag that Randy had set him down on earlier. A part of him wondered if Randy would wake up while he was gone, but Nomi quickly shook the thought off. Based on the deep breathing that he heard from the bed above him, Nomi figured Randy was already in a deep sleep. Usually nothing really woke his student up—not even that bad thunderstorm from last week. So it was unlikely that Randy would wake until morning. Even if he woke early, he would probably fall right back asleep without even noticing that the Nomicon was gone.

That was the one benefit to the young ninja's lack of organization. He could never remember where he put anything, and it was a good extra cover for Nomi to step out every once in a while. It had definitely been easy to sneak out last year…

He walked over to the window, stepping carefully on the tips of his toes. Although it was highly unlikely that Randy would wake, Nomi was careful, mostly for his own comfort.

As Nomi started opening the window, he paused. He realized he had no idea where he wanted to go.

There was Smith's house, but it was dark. Nomi wasn't sure if he had gone to bed at this point.

Of course, there was also the park. Nobody would likely be there, but it was an interesting place to look at during the night.

Although, now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure he wanted to go there. It was still cold and wet outside, and probably even more so at the park. The snow had melted, but Nomi hated the cold.

He sighed. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to go to Smith's house. Besides, sometimes he was still up this late. Smith had told him that he liked the quiet of the night, and that there wasn't enough of that during the day. Sometimes when he couldn't sleep, he took advantage of it.

Nomi just hoped he wasn't being rude or pushy.

He pushed the window open all the way, before climbing out, setting his bottom on the ledge. He looked down for a moment, preparing himself for the drop, before pushing himself off. With a pained gasp, he landed hard on both feet. Nomi grimaced, wobbling unsteadily as he waited for the pain to subside from the balls of his feet. After a few moments, he walked up to a tree next to the house. He got down on his knees, sticking his tongue out in response to the wet grass that he could feel soaking through his pants. He placed his hands at the base of the tree, feeling around for a minute, before curling his fingers around uneven pieces of bark. With careful fingers, he pulled a large chunk of bark from the tree, revealing a small compartment. From the compartment, Nomi pulled out a plastic bag. Reaching into the bag, he took out a navy blue sweatshirt, which he placed down beside him. Then he brought his fingers up to his neck, looking for the clasp to his cloak. When he found it, he loosened it, before pulling the garment from his body, placing it on his other side. Next he removed his gloves, and placed them on top of the cloak. Turning to the clothes he had removed, he wrapped the mess into a ball, and shoved it into the plastic bag. Finally, he put the bag back inside the trunk, and placed the bark back in its place.

Nomi stood, grabbing the sweatshirt. He slipped it on, and looked down at his body, trying to get a decent look at his clothes. Although it was not the ideal outfit, it was enough to allow him to blend in, especially at this time of day.

He looked down at the trunk one more time, double checking that everything was in its right place. When he was satisfied, he began walking, stepping over to the sidewalk.

As he adjusted to a quick pace, he started to feel his spirits lift a bit. The more Nomi walked, the more energetic he felt. It took only a few minutes until he felt so good that he was almost ready to start skipping like a little kid.

The last time he had stepped out in his true form was before the snow had even started to fall.

However, he didn't mind staying as the Nomicon for long periods of time. He had done it several times before. It wasn't often that he actually felt bored inside. The inside of the Nomicon provided Nomi with everything that he needed.

No, he couldn't complain. The Nomicon was peaceful and safe, for the most part.

But as Nomi continued to walk down the streets, he could feel a pleasant difference in his mood. Especially now that the weather was changing. It was still cold out, but this wasn't as bad as it had been this last winter. The best part was, the outside smelled like rain. He always loved that smell. It reminded him of his childhood, when he and his brother would play out in the mud after a good storm.

Suddenly, he felt his toes stick to an uneven piece of pavement. He yelped, trying to stay on two feet, but gravity got the better of him, and he fell forwards, hard on the cement ground. His hands and knees immediately burned from the impact.

Nomi was still for a few moments, before he felt his lips crack upwards, and he started laughing. He couldn't explain why, but for some bizarre reason, the little episode was just funny to him.

He sat there for a few minutes, waiting for his giggling to cease.

Before standing, he looked down at his hands, making sure they weren't bleeding. Luckily they seemed dry, although his left hand had a chunk of skin that was peeled back.

Nomi wrinkled his nose, carefully getting on his feet, using the backs of his hands to push himself up.

It took just over half an hour to get to Smith's house. By the time he reached the steps, Nomi was shivering. He quickly marched up the cement stairs, before pressing the doorbell, twice. It took a few minutes, and he was about to press the doorbell again, when the door opened.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Nomi. Sorry, I know it's late."

Smith frowned. He scratched the back of his head.

"It's been a while since you stopped by, boy. Shut the door behind you."

Nomi followed Smith inside, shutting the door as told. He followed Smith all the way into the kitchen, then took a seat at the table. Smith walked past the table, walking until his cane hit the stove. Nomi watched Smith feel around on the stove, until he grabbed a kettle.

"I'm making tea," said Smith. "Want some?"

"Please. Do you need any help?"

Smith set the kettle under the sink. He put his cane against the counter, before removing the lid of the kettle and turning the sink on.

"You can get the cups and some teabags."

Nomi pushed his seat back from the table and stood. As he went to the cabinet for the cups, Smith put the kettle down on the stove and turned the stove on high. By the time Nomi found the tea, Smith was already sitting at the table, having set a bottle of honey in front of himself. Nomi took the seat across from Smith, placing the cups and tea near the honey.

"So what brings you here tonight? It's not like you to sneak out just to visit."

Nomi bit his lip. His thoughts trailed back to last night.

"Well, uh, I would have actually stopped by last night, but I couldn't risk it. Y-you know, because the ninja still doesn't know about me."

"Mmhm. You know, I don't think this boy is like the last one you exposed yourself to. The Ninja can be immature, but his heart seems to be in the right place."

Nomi shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I-I know. But, I'm just not sure if there's really any benefit from revealing myself. Besides...Mikoto was always better at talking to the students."

Smith raised a brow.

"Did you find him?"

Nomi looked down at his hands. A lump was beginning to form in the back of his throat.

"I'm starting to wonder if he's even alive anymore. I mean, last night..."

Nomi wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. Although Smith couldn't see his tears, he knew he would hear it in his voice.

"Last night?" Smith gently prodded.

Nomi took a deep breath, hoping his voice wouldn't tremble too much.

"I was in the Nomicon. And, I was starting to fall asleep, because it was late, when I, I saw him."

"You saw your brother?"

"Yes. But, he didn't look like himself." Nomi rubbed his eyes again, rubbing them so hard that Smith became blurry. "He was so frail. And it looked like he was losing feathers. His body was covered with injuries. I-it looked like he was dead."

He was starting to shake. It had suddenly gotten so _cold_ in the room. Nomi hugged his knees, pulling them close to his chest, in an attempt to warm himself up. He wanted to stop his body from shaking, but when he tried, he just felt worse. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, desperate for relief.

"Nomi?"

Nomi opened his eyes. Smith was frowning. Nomi cleared his throat, praying that his voice wouldn't crack.

"I'm fine. Really. I just..." Nomi sighed. "I don't know what to do."

But before his companion could offer any words of comfort, the kettle on the stove started to let off a high pitched squeal, alerting the two that the water inside was boiling.

"I can get that," Nomi said weakly.

"No. I've got it."

As Smith went back to the stove, Nomi watched him, wiping his eyes once more, the lump in his throat shrinking. He was starting to feel the comfortable numbness return.

When Smith came back with the kettle, Nomi helped him pour the boiling water into the cups. Then Smith handed Nomi the bottle of honey. Nomi took it, but didn't pour it yet, waiting for the water in his cup to absorb the contents of the teabag.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Nomi tried to distract himself with the sounds of the crickets outside, but the dull ache in his heart still persisted stubbornly. He missed his brother terribly, and he didn't even know if he was dead.

That was the worst part. Not knowing whether to mourn or to continue searching.

Nomi picked up the bottle of honey and poured some into his cup. Grasping the warm cup, he then took a sip of his tea. The hot drink went down his throat soothingly, and he started to relax as he felt the calming effects of the tea work on his body.

"Maybe I should start looking for him again," Nomi wondered out loud. "I mean, I haven't looked in a while. What if I just missed him somewhere?"

Smith set his own cup down on the table.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Nomi looked down at the amber liquid in his cup.

"I don't know."

"Look. I understand why you would want to do it. But you still have a duty to keep up with. You can't do that if you continue to let this eat you alive."

"I know," Nomi said helplessly. "You're right. I just..."

"I know," Smith said. "It's hard to let go."

...

 **Author's Note:**

 **Well, I hope you guys enjoyed chapter two! Thank you all so much for reading, following/favoriting, and reviewing! I was thrilled with the feedback I got, and did my best to improve any issues you may have spotted in chapter one!**

 **Please feel free again to give me constructive criticism, or anything else you have to say! I really appreciate everything so far!**

 **I'm not sure when chapter three will be done, but I have already started a good chunk of it. I just might be a bit busy since school is starting soon and I have not finished my summer reading homework. (Although at least I got some of it done already! Usually I end up putting it all off until the last day and will literally read 500 pages in less than 24 hours. And no, it is not impressive, because that is why I failed the impromptu we had the second day. XD So this year for once I actually might finish a good week or two before school starts.)**

 **Take care!**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Feeling of a Mouse**

 **Chapter Three**

 **(TRIGGER WARNING:**

 **There are mentions of torture and self-harm in the beginning of the second scene. Tread with caution if these are things that trigger you.)**

Randy yawned, resting his head in his hand as he tried to keep his eyes on the video at the front of the classroom. He had no idea what the video was about, but at least he looked like he was paying attention. He had given up actually trying to understand the video when he couldn't stop listening to the conversation between the two freshman girls in front of him.

 _One of the stages of mitosis is—_

"Hey, what are you doing this weekend?"

"I have to babysit my stupid brother. Why?"

"Oh, I just wanted to see if we could hang out."

"No, sorry. Unless you want to get food thrown at you at my house."

"C'mon, ladies," said Mr. Dildine. "I know it's boring, but we're almost done today."

By the time they had stopped talking, he was already too behind to make any sense of the video. So instead he listened to the hum of the fan blowing near the window, to block out the now meaningless chatter from the video.

Although, after a while, it became difficult to keep his eyes open.

He had tried to go to bed early the previous night, but the majority of the night had been spent tossing and turning. By the time he had fallen asleep, there was less than an hour before his alarm was supposed to go off.

As he tried once again to comprehend the explanation of mitosis from the video, he felt his head get very heavy. He didn't even catch it sinking down until he could feel cold wood pressing against his ear.

Randy shot back up, shaking his head. Letting out a huff, he looked up at the clock. There was another ten minutes of school. With this boring video, it was going to feel a lot more like twenty.

Putting his head back in his hand, he tapped his fingers against the side of his face, trying to find a way to keep himself entertained enough to stay awake. He wasn't sure if he would actually be able to last the ten minutes without falling asleep. Fighting his body's protests felt like torture.

But when the clock read "2:55", Mr. Dildine paused the video. Randy relaxed a little in his seat, grateful.

"I think we're at a good stopping point for today," Mr. Dildine said, turning the TV off. "You can pack up."

The class bursted into a loud clatter of voices and packing up belongings. Unlike the rest of his class, Randy remained quiet, pulling his bag up onto his desk. He would be walking home in a few minutes, but he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer while he was still sitting down. Crossing his arms on top of his bag, he put his head down, closing his eyes.

The last five minutes of class slipped away quickly, and soon the school bell was ringing, pulling the young teen out of his light slumber. As the rest of the students zipped out, Randy waited in his seat, too slow to stand without an impatient freshman pushing his seat back in. He waited for every student to leave before he finally stood, grabbing his backpack.

"Nice job today, Randy."

Randy looked at Mr. Dildine, who was standing from his desk.

"What? I didn't even do anything."

"Not true. You didn't fall asleep. And you even turned in this weekend's homework on time."

Randy shrugged.

"Well, okay. But, I'm still confused."

His teacher smiled.

"If you're confused, you should stop by during lunch tomorrow. I'd be happy to answer any questions."

Randy frowned. He was tempted by the offer, but still unsure. He was afraid of what his teacher would say after realizing just how little Randy actually knew in this class.

Then again, maybe his teacher already knew how behind his student was. It made sense after all, considering all the times he had been caught sleeping in class. And if he brought in tonight's homework to lunch tomorrow, it meant that he was able to skip a couple of questions on the homework tonight.

"I guess I could bring some homework tomorrow. Thanks."

Randy left the classroom, entering the busy hallway. He walked around for a few minutes, avoiding fellow students and a spilled carton of milk, before he spotted Howard at the end of the hallway, opening his locker.

"Howard!"

As Randy maneuvered his way around the other students, he couldn't help but notice the look on his friend's face. Howard wouldn't look Randy's way, and he was slouched over his locker, as if exhausted. Randy immediately felt a knot beginning to grow in his gut. He was unable to shake the concern that Howard was annoyed at him. Randy was unsure of why he would be, but at the same time he was used to Howard getting annoyed at him. Everyone thought he was annoying.

As he reached Howard's locker, he suddenly felt awkward and out of place. He pulled at the neck of his shirt.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Randy asked.

Howard closed his locker, looking down, uninterested.

"Nothing."

Randy knew something was different about Howard, but he didn't push anymore, afraid that he would snap.

"Well, uh, you wanna come over tonight?"

"I can't. It's my dad's birthday and I have to have dinner with the family."

"Oh." Randy looked around, too shy to look directly at Howard. The hallways were quickly growing empty. "Well, uh, how about tomorrow then?"

"I don't think so, Cunningham. Sorry."

Randy looked back at his friend, the knot in his stomach growing tighter. Howard was acting very weird, and Randy was starting to get worried.

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

"I just don't see the point anymore, Cunningham."

"What?"

Howard sighed. He still would not look up at Randy, as if he were avoiding him.

"It's just, every time we want to do something, you always leave me hanging. I just don't see the point in hanging out if you're just going to leave right away."

Randy swallowed. He knew this was going to happen.

"Howard, that's ninja stuff. That's not my fault. I can't just put that off when a robot is attacking the city or something."

"Yeah, I know. But that doesn't mean I _like_ it."

Randy bit his lip. He felt helpless,. He understood what Howard was feeling, and he knew that he would feel the same way in his shoes. But Randy wasn't sure how to make it up to Howard. He didn't want to quit being the ninja, but at the same time, he didn't want to lose Howard as his friend. Howard was his _only_ friend.

"I know you don't like it. And I'm really sorry, Howard. But I still care about you, and I still like hanging out with you."

Howard shrugged.

"I just need a break."

Randy felt his stomach do a flip.

"A-a break? What does that mean?"

"It's not a big deal. I just don't want to hang out for a while."

Randy was suddenly quiet. He could feel a lump starting to grow in his throat. He swallowed again, taking a deep breath. That's when he noticed a green fog starting to form around the outside of the vents on the wall nearby. Tense, he looked down at the floor, trying to distract himself with the difference of blue and yellow on the ground.

"Okay."

Finally, he could feel Howard's eyes on him. Randy tried not to think about it, starting to wonder how close spring break was from now. It couldn't be more than two weeks away at this point.

"You okay?"

Randy wanted to say 'no, of course not', but he knew that would only make it worse.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Howard nodded. He started to walk past Randy, when he said,

"You know, you're still my bro."

Randy felt the lump in his throat come back, this time much larger. Suddenly he could feel the Nomicon buzzing in his bag, against his hip.

"Yup."

Howard stood still for a moment, before leaving his friend alone in the hallway. Randy swallowed again, feeling faint.

Then he spotted the fog heading for his ankles.

With a grunt, he stepped back. The fog started to follow him, but he picked up the pace, starting to run for the door. He made it out of the school, and slammed the door shut behind him, praying that the stank wouldn't follow him outside. Randy took a deep breath, and started walking towards a tree near the building. He sat down against it, pulling out the Nomicon.

"Please help me calm down or something. Because I have no idea if it's possible for me to de-stank myself."

But before he could open the Nomicon, he heard a loud crash from inside the building, followed by an inhuman roar.

Randy grimaced.

"That works too."

He pulled out the mask from his bag, before shoving the Nomicon back inside it. He zipped behind the tree, pulling the mask over his face. He was fully suited as he heard a window break. Pulling out his sword, he ran towards the side of the school.

Surrounded by pieces of broken glass and building, was a monster, with the head of a lion, and the body of a snake. He could tell that the student who had been stanked was a girl, because the lion didn't have a mane, and she was wearing a pink turtleneck, and on the lion ears were several pink hoop earrings.

Randy gripped his sword tightly with both hands.

"Hey, lion-thing!"

The monster swerved its head around, glaring at the ninja.

"You know, I can't tell what the juice you are," Randy said, his lips curving upwards into a smirk behind the mask. "You must have a _reptile dysfunction_."

The monster let out a growl, before leaping in Randy's direction. He took his scarf and threw the end at the branch of the closest tree, hoisting himself up just in time. The beast missed its target completely, and slammed head first into the school.

"Ooh, that looks like it hurt. I ain't _lion_!"

He couldn't help the childish giggle that bubbled out of him.

The monster turned to face him again. He squinted back at it, trying to look for its stanked item. That's when he noticed a green glow emanating near the end of the tail, which was wrapped around a small box. A phone.

 ** _"MeN pIgS_** ," the monster wailed, its voice distorted with the mix of a human voice and a lion's. " ** _JeFf PiG!_** "

"Hey, just because this Jeff guy is a shoob, it doesn't mean the rest of us guys are. Now why don't you just chill out before someone gets hurt?"

The monster shrieked. It charged at the tree, before pouncing up, tackling him. He yelped, dropping his sword as he struggled to keep the razor-like fangs from digging into him. As they landed, he kicked the monster right in the chin, forcing the lion jaw shut, before leaping a few feet back from the beast.

"Jeeze! That was a close one!"

Randy watched as the monster landed on its back. He took a moment to look around for his sword, until he found it, several feet behind him, sticking deep into the cold hard dirt, under the grass.

He looked back as the monster steadied itself upright. As it bared its fangs, he pondered whether or not it was worth it to grab his sword. He felt exposed without his sword, especially since this student was much more aggressive than most stanked kids were.

But he didn't have time to make a decision, as the monster attacked again, pouncing towards him. Randy cartwheeled back, hardly able to avoid the teeth this time.

"Sheesh! I'm not Jeff! You don't have to _kill_ me!"

The monster ignored his words, glaring right at him. He stared back blankly, feeling stuck. He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to de-stank this person without getting hurt. And although he was used to the occasional scrape or bruise, he was still feeling hesitant, afraid of what would happen if the monster had actually caught him.

He would have to think of a way to grab the phone without being noticed.

Suddenly, he had an idea.

"Hey, I wonder how much you weigh? I bet whatever it is, it would be off the _scales_!"

The monster howled, charging for Randy. He pulled out a smoke bomb and threw it, shrouding himself in a veil of red smoke. Taking advantage of the disorientation, he jumped up into the tree, waiting for the fog to die down.

When the fog had dissipated, the monster was whining loudly, shaking its head violently in disgust. After it calmed down, it realized that Randy was gone.

It turned its back from the tree, starting to search for its opponent.

He took his chance, jumping down from the tree, aimed right for the tail.

Unfortunately, he hadn't anticipated for what would happen if the monster caught him before he was on top. It turned back around, and, reaching its head out, it opened its mouth and caught the surprised ninja in its mouth, biting down with sharp teeth, right into Randy's gut.

He cried out. Desperately, he tried to pry the jaw open, as he could feel the teeth sinking deeper inside his body, but he wasn't strong enough to force it open. With all the strength he could muster, he punched the beast right in the nose. It howled, dropping Randy from its mouth. He landed on his back, gasping, hardly able to take in any air without feeling the sharp pain piercing his body.

The monster peered down at him, baring its teeth, which were tinted with blood. Randy's blood.

It was about to snatch him again, but he quickly rolled out of the way, into the side of the building. Letting out a pained groan, he pushed himself up against the wall. He stared at the beast in horror as it quickly cornered him against the wall. He could see the phone still grasped in the snake tail, but he wasn't sure that he could get it. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move. He could hardly keep himself standing, even against the wall.

The monster drew its head closer, further trapping its prey. Randy gasped, his heart pounding in his chest. What was it going to do to him? Had stanked people ever killed other ninjas before?

Just as the beast opened its mouth, Randy heard a snap, before he saw a small rock tumble from the head. The beast hissed, twisting its head behind it. Randy tried to look too, but he couldn't see past the lion head, and he was in too much pain to push himself up any higher.

For a moment, there was a deadly silence, before the beast pulled back, forgetting the weakened ninja. Randy slid down against the wall, slipping to the ground. He could feel the blood soaking through his clothes, making them stick to his skin.

Helpless, he watched the scene in front of him, as he finally realized what had caught the monster's attention.

Standing several feet ahead, facing the stanked girl, was a boy in a black cape. He looked around Randy's age, maybe slightly older, and he had deep red hair that was pulled back into a braid behind his neck.

The monster arched its head back, ready to strike. In response, the boy brought his his gloved hands together, and out from them came a powerful blast of air. It hit the monster, who crashed into the wall near Randy, dropping the phone. Randy quickly snatched it, ignoring the screaming pain in his gut, before he pulled out a dagger and drove it through the center of the phone. The green light around it immediately dissipated, and the being to his left quickly lost its monster-like form. Randy sank back against the wall, dropping his dagger beside him. His pain had increased tremendously, and the idea alone of walking home like this seemed impossible.

The redheaded boy ran up to Randy, quickly kneeling down to his level.

"Where are you hurt?"

Randy sat up straight, biting back a whimper.

"Who are you?" Randy croaked.

Despite the fact that this boy had saved him, he wasn't sure if it was okay to allow him to help. The Nomicon already disapproved of the fact that he had revealed himself to Howard. Besides, he didn't _know_ this person.

"Oh my god. Is the Ninja okay?!"

The two boys looked up. Randy immediately recognized the pink sweater.

"Don't worry about him," the boy said. "You should leave. It's not safe here."

"But—"

"He'll be fine. I promise."

"Yeah, don't worry. It's not that easy to kill me," Randy added, trying to keep his voice steady. The last thing he needed was the fact that he was hurt reaching McFist.

The girl nodded.

"Okay. Thank you."

The two warriors were left alone. As soon as the girl was gone, the boy turned back to Randy.

"It's okay, Randy. You can trust me."

Randy could feel his heart skip a beat.

"I—what makes you think that's my name?"

The boy smiled.

"Well, I wouldn't be a very good teacher if I didn't even know my student's name now, would I?"

Randy blinked. He stared at the boy kneeling in front of him, his head starting to spin.

" _What_?"

The boy sighed, shaking his head.

"Randy, I'm the Nomicon."

…

Mikoto stared blankly at the wall across from him.

It had been several days since he had last seen McFist. Their last encounter had been interrupted by Viceroy, when he had burst into the cell to pull McFist away from Mikoto.

Mikoto remembered the way one of his old students would behave after a couple of drinks. Already having a short temper when sober, it was almost always inevitable for him to become violent when drunk. Mikoto would usually tell his younger brother to leave the house during these times, ignoring his pleas and protests.

It wasn't that he hadn't trusted his brother. He just knew his student's triggers.

That's how he had figured out that McFist wasn't sober.

Still, he had never seen anything so psychotic. Even towards his own employee, McFist would not make the effort to hold back his fury. If anything, he had seemed even more enraged after Viceroy had entered the room.

The entire display had been absolutely terrifying. Mikoto would have even attempted to stop McFist from beating the man, had he not been bound to the wall.

After the incident, _after_ Viceroy had finally managed to scream loud enough to get enough robo apes to restrain McFist, Mikoto was let down and allowed to rest on the mattress.

He had stopped caring months ago how filthy it was. It only took minutes before he was unconscious, after he was sure that McFist was gone.

However, he wasn't out for long. Even in his dreams, he could feel how trapped he truly was. Sometimes when he was asleep, he felt as if he were reliving the usual torture that was now a part of his life. Although, there were other times that his mind was able to produce something truly horrifying—a true nightmare.

He had lost count of the times that it was his brother who was covered in blood, even though these nightmares had only started a small while ago.

McFist often accused Mikoto of being stubborn. But the reality was, Mikoto felt weak. He would often _beg_ McFist to stop hurting him.

Sometimes, when McFist was gone, he wanted to cry. For a while he had been able to, until he realized that he was never truly alone in this cell. There was always someone watching him. He figured that out the first time he had tried to escape. After it had only taken a matter of minutes for McFist and his apes to tie him down, before he had even reached the exit to his cell.

Now, when he felt the urge to cry, he would either start to rip out his hair, or rip out the feathers on his arms, legs, or even the wings on his back. Or sometimes, he would even find himself clawing at healing scabs.

He couldn't explain why, but he found himself to be soothed when he gave in to the impulse to mutilate his body. He was aware that some of his wounds were infected, and that he had less hair than before he was captured, but he didn't care. There was something, almost pleasant, about ripping these things out of his body. When he was done, his skin would be burning in response to what he had just done, but while he was doing it, he felt detached from his own body. All he would feel was the pleasurable sensation of pulling out the impurities from his skin with his fingers.

Now remembering his habit, he brought his fingertips to his right arm. He felt around for a stubble he knew was starting to grow, and once he found it, he yanked the feather from his arm. For a while, he let his fingers toy with the hard tip of the feather that had been inside his skin, until it slipped from his fingers, and the little feather disappeared into the dirty floor.

During his first few months here, McFist would often yank out Mikoto's feathers, as a form of torture. At first, Mikoto would pull out the feathers on his own, as a way to protect himself from McFist. Somehow, it seemed less scary when he would do it to himself.

But now, he just pulled or picked when he was feeling nervous, or bored, or when he was in deep thought.

Sometimes he didn't even realize he was doing it until there was a small pile of feathers or hair at his side.

There was something inside him that was conscious of the fact that he couldn't stop himself from the habit, if he ever wanted to stop. But usually this was only a thought that appeared in his mind for a brief second, if he did think about it.

He didn't care. There was never anything to do, anyways. Even sleeping had grown old. He had slept so much that sometimes he couldn't anymore. Usually he wouldn't be out again until he was so tired that he would practically pass out.

 _Creak!_

Mikoto jumped, his heart pounding heavily in his chest. He immediately got to his feet, not wanting to be any more vulnerable than he had to be.

A light poured into the cell from above. Mikoto grunted, being temporarily blinded by the harsh light. By the time his eyes adjusted to the new lighting, he was able to see Viceroy climbing down from the ladder that had been dropped. Mikoto could feel his shoulders loosen up a bit, but only slightly. Out of all the people he had met here, Viceroy was the least aggressive. Come to think of it, he had never actually harmed him.

But Mikoto tried not to trust him. Viceroy was still working for his torturer.

Viceroy reached the ground on Mikoto's level. Mikoto looked down, unable to bring himself to look at Viceroy. He was taller than both McFist and Viceroy, but lately, he couldn't shake the sense that he felt smaller.

"What do you want?" Mikoto asked numbly.

"I brought you something. You should eat."

He looked up, and saw that Viceroy was holding out a sandwich for him.

Unsurely, Mikoto took it. He looked down at it, not bothering to bite into it. His stomach turned sour as he remembered the taste of the last sandwich Viceroy had brought him.

"It's okay. It's not turkey. C'mon, you skipped lunch."

The image of his own starved body flashed in his mind. He was tempted to lift up his shirt, to remind Viceroy of all the days he had "skipped lunch", but he didn't. Instead, he held his tongue, and sat down, before taking a bite out of the sandwich.

He was surprised to taste an overwhelmingly sweet peanut butter. It was so sweet that he could hardly register the jelly in the sandwich, only feeling a gooey texture that further turned him off.

Mikoto refrained from spitting his bite out, swallowing the sweet mess. He took another bite, and swallowed again, trying not to taste it. He didn't want to eat any more of the sandwich, but he forced himself to finish it. Once the beatings were to start again, he could expect a lot less food coming his way. This was better than nothing.

Viceroy sat down across from him. Mikoto scooted back a bit, his lower back hitting the mattress.

Then, to his surprise, he saw Viceroy pull out a small chess set from his coat.

"You play?" Viceroy asked.

"Sort of."

His thoughts raced back to the last chess game he and his brother had played. Nomi had got him into a chess mate in less than ten minutes. This was usually something that happened when they played, but Mikoto didn't mind. He made up for it when they played cards. Although Mikoto didn't mind chess, as it was something his brother enjoyed, he preferred cards any day. Cards were a lot easier to remember than chess. It was all chance, and involved very little strategy. He never understood how his brother seemed to be able to plan every move of a chess game before Mikoto even made his first move. If he tried to plan that far ahead, it would probably take hours, just trying to remember what each piece could do. But when he played cards, he felt a lot less blind. Especially because his brother was so easy to read. Nomi denied it, but he had a very bad poker face.

Viceroy took the chess board out of the small box, and set it down between them. Mikoto watched him put the pieces on the board, and wondered if Viceroy would be any easier of an opponent than Nomi. Although it was likely, considering the age difference, Mikoto knew that he probably still wouldn't be winning this game. Not that he cared. It wasn't like it mattered, especially here.

Mikoto finished the sandwich in silence, hardly aware that it was gone. He was about to bite into his fingers when Viceroy broke him out of his daze.

"You can go first."

"Huh?" Mikoto looked down and realized that the board was already set up. "Oh."

He stared down tiredly at the black pieces set down in front of him, then quickly moved a pawn without a second thought. He forgot that pawns were able to move two spaces on the first move.

Viceroy moved a pawn, also only moving one space.

A small while later, Mikoto had several of Viceroy's pawns, both of his rooks, and his queen. Viceroy only had one of Mikoto's bishops.

"You're going easy on me," Mikoto said quietly.

Viceroy chuckled. He used one of his pawns to take Mikoto's queen.

"Better?"

Mikoto shrugged. He moved a knight into the spot Viceroy's pawn had attacked the queen, and scooped the vanilla colored piece in his hand. He kept it in his hand, rubbing his thumb up and down the round nub.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," Viceroy said playfully.

Mikoto didn't smile.

"Why are you being nice to me? Aren't you afraid of me? I could hurt you if I had the mind to."

Viceroy sighed. He took his hand away from the chess board, suddenly not as interested in his move.

"It seems like a lot of extra work to think about new ways to torture you, especially when someone else is already doing that. It's easier to just treat you like a person. Besides, even though I know you could hurt me, you haven't. So, what would be the point in hurting you?"

Mikoto looked up at Viceroy. As his mind processed what his words meant, he felt a lump starting to grow in his throat. Being recognized as a person was something he hadn't been allowed for a long time. He was aware of how little McFist thought of him. McFist didn't even hate him. It was like all he was, in this prison, was a punching bag. Just a way to relieve stress. He wasn't even an animal.

Mikoto ran his fingers through his very tangled clumps of hair. He grabbed one of the smaller clumps and tried to pull it out. But it didn't come out. It was attached to too many strands of hair.

"I-if you don't care for this kind of work, then why are you still here? Why don't you quit?"

Viceroy was silent for a moment.

"I don't know. I guess I just never thought about it."

The statement was just too much for him. He couldn't meet Viceroy's eyes any longer, instead looking down, still trying to pull the clump out. The threat of tears was much more intense than he was used to. He couldn't understand why Viceroy wouldn't leave, since nothing was holding him back. Obviously he disagreed with his boss's choices. So it didn't make sense. Mikoto knew he would leave if he had the chance. He absolutely hated it here.

That's when another thought popped inside his head.

There still was one thing he hadn't tried. Still one more escape plan that he hadn't attempted.

As he finally managed to rip the clump of hair from his head, he snaked his free hand behind him, under the mattress, to make sure his toothbrush was still there.

"It's your turn."

"Hm?" Mikoto yanked his hand back to his side, looking back at the scientist. Viceroy gently pointed to the piece he had moved. "Oh."

They finished the game, neither uttering another word.

...

 **AN:**

 **Phew! Can't believe it's been almost a month since I last updated! My summer reading homework sort of took up a lot of my writing time. It's super hard to write when you've got homework you know you've been putting off on your mind!**

 **Ironically, now that I'm back in school, I have less homework now than I did in the summer. Hopefully it'll stay that way. Or hopefully I'll come down with a case of senioritis. Either one will do, actually. (Haha no just kidding.)**

 **Hope you enjoyed! :3**

 **Oh, and one more thing! Usually I'm not one to advertise fanfictions, as I'm super picky about what I read. (You can blame my ADHD.) But recently, I came across this really good fanfic that I think you'd all enjoy too. I think it portrays Randy really well in a way that I find myself really able to relate to. Plus, the writing style is so artistic! It's very unique, and very entertaining! Honestly, the story leaves me thinking the same way I think when I read a really good novel. :3**

 **The fanfiction is called "Crossing Paths", and the author goes by Devilion13.**

 **I'll post the links to the fic, but if for some reason they don't work, the story is on my favorites list on my profile. :) (Just remove the spaces in this link here.)**

 **: / / m . fanfiction s / 1147 3925 / 1 / Crossing - Paths**

 **Enjoy! ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Feeling of a Mouse**

 **Chapter** **Four**

After the Nomicon closed Randy's wounds with the art of healing, they left the school, before McFist had a chance to attack. For a while, Randy protested to being carried, until he realized how exhausted he felt. His body was becoming fed up with the lack of sleep, and was now finding new ways to make its message heard.

When they finally made it to Randy's house, the last hints of sun were fading, the sky almost pitch black now.

The Nomicon set Randy down on his feet, but held on to his school bag.

"Where are your keys?"

Randy's heart skipped a beat as his thoughts scrambled back to this morning. He had been running late, again, and had been too busy rushing out the door to bother grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter.

When he had realized that they were still inside, he decided not to go back to get them, assuming that he could just go to Howard's house after school.

Randy bit his lip.

"I, uh. I may have, um, sort of left them, at home?"

When he saw the scowl that had formed on his teacher's face, he knew his own face was beginning to resemble the redness of a tomato. Randy grimaced, placing his hand against the back of his neck. The coolness emanating from his chilly fingers felt nice against his burning neck.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking down at his feet. He noticed a dab of mud on the white of his shoe that reminded him of a lopsided star. "What do we do now?"

The Nomicon let out a deep sigh. He put Randy's bag down beside him.

"Do you know when your neighbors come home from work?"

"Wait, what?" Randy was caught off guard by the seemingly random question. "I-I mean, no, not really."

The Nomicon frowned, silent in deep thought. He looked at the house to their right, then the one to their left. Randy looked too, noticing that only one of the houses had a car parked in the driveway.

"I don't think my neighbors have a spare key," Randy said.

"That won't be necessary."

Randy raised a brow, his thoughts seeming to blur as he tried to wrap his head around the odd statement. The subject of his thoughts, the oddity of the statement, appeared to be there, but it was suddenly very difficult to put his fractured thoughts into words.

"So why did—"

Before he could finish, the Nomicon charged at the door. With perfect precision, his foot collided with the lock of the door. There was a loud thump as he hit the door, before it gave in beneath his weight, opening up into the house.

Randy's mouth fell open, and he stood there, gawking at the redhead. The Nomicon turned back to Randy, picking up his bag.

"Let's go inside," he said calmly, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "We need to make sure your wounds aren't critical."

Randy continued to stand there, blinking, his mind simply unable to handle this bizarre day any longer.

"I must be hallucinating," he blurted out.

The Nomicon smiled.

"I don't think you hit your head, Randy. And I promise you that I'm real."

His teacher stepped into the house. Randy followed, and closed the door behind him. Curious, he checked to see if the door was locked. To his amazement, it was still locked, and apparently not even broken.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Randy asked, still staring at the door.

"From a book. Come sit down on the couch."

Randy tore his gaze away from the door and did as he was told, going to the couch.

"You stay here. I'm going to get supplies from the bathroom."

The Nomicon put Randy's bag beside the young teen on the couch, before leaving the room. Randy watched, fascinated that his teacher already seemed to know where the bathroom was.

He reached into his bag and pulled out his phone. There were two missed calls from his mother. Letting out a groan, he dropped his phone back into his bag. Although he knew that he should call his mother back, he didn't want to do so. It seemed as if it would be too much work, especially since she would probably fail to pick up, and he would be stuck waiting to see if she would call back.

Randy pulled his phone back out and unlocked it. He quickly sent Ms. Cunningham the message **_"call me later, in shower"_** and put his phone away again. That would probably buy Randy the night, until his mother came home.

Despite having one less thing to worry about, he still felt a pressure hovering in his chest. He sat tensely against the back of the couch, his shoulders hunched close together, as he remembered everything that had happened today.

First, his thoughts travelled back to Howard. Thinking about Howard gave him a strange sense of both guilt and anger. He felt guilty, because of how busy he had been, but at the same time, he felt hurt, because he couldn't help being so busy. Of course it sucked to be forgotten, but Howard wasn't exactly helping the situation either. It was not just Randy who was always cancelling. Howard had also been making lots of excuses not to hang out over the last several weeks.

Then he remembered that he had science homework that was due the next day. Before the monster attack had happened, he had planned on attempting the homework that night. At least enough to know what kinds of questions to ask Mr. Dildine. He knew that he still had time to attempt the work, but it seemed like a lot of mental work that he just didn't have the energy for at this point. He was sleepy, and his body was sore and weak.

Randy huffed, then took a deep breath, trying to contain tears of frustration.

He tried to tell himself that one more missing assignment didn't make much of a difference. That he could always try again the next day. But it still bothered him. He hated not being able to turn things in. The only reason he didn't was because he never had the time. There was never enough time.

Randy wished he could stay home tomorrow. If he wasn't the ninja, he would have tried to fake a sick day, so he could try to catch up.

Sometimes he wished there were more hours in the day. If he just had more time, his life would be so much easier.

The Nomicon stepped back into the room, his arms filled with first aid supplies, including a bottle of ibuprofen, a small wash cloth, a bag of cotton balls, white linen bandages, a box of latex band aids, and a paper cup filled with water. Randy couldn't figure out what the water was for, until he noticed something else.

"You know, we do have peroxide," Randy said.

"Water is better. Peroxide damages skin tissue and slows down healing."

"Oh. Really?"

The Nomicon nodded, sitting down next to Randy, and turning to face him. He carefully organized the supplies in front of him, holding the cup of water in one hand.

"Okay." The Nomicon picked up the bag of cotton balls. "I know I healed some of your wounds before, but only enough to stop the bleeding."

"Can't you just use the art of healing again?"

"Not really. I can't completely heal you. The art of healing takes a lot of energy out of you when you start to heal larger injuries. If you're really not careful, you could kill yourself while healing someone else, in extreme cases."

Randy winced.

"I probably should have told you that when I first taught you the spell," the Nomicon added, uncomfortably. "Sorry."

"Oh, um, no. It's okay, uh, Nomicon. I haven't used it much. It's not a big deal."

The Nomicon shrugged.

"So where did you get hurt?"

"Oh. Right." Randy paused for a moment, before carefully slipping out of his sweater and t-shirt. The t-shirt was torn and stiff with blood. He threw both garments down at the floor, before looking down at the large bite marks on his belly. "This one was the worst before you healed me."

The Nomicon frowned, his eyes fixed on the bite, brows knit tightly together.

"Hm. I might have to heal it a little more."

He put the cotton balls down on his knee, then carefully reached out to touch the gashes in Randy's belly. Randy bit the inside of his cheek in discomfort as his teacher gently prodded around the gash with his thumb, which was cold. Randy let out a pained grunt when he felt the thumb press a little harder.

"It doesn't seem to be that deep," his teacher muttered to himself, drawing his hand back. "How much does it hurt?"

"Uh, well, it doesn't hurt as bad as it did before. It just stings when I move, but it's not that bad."

"I think it's okay then."

The Nomicon picked up the wash cloth. After dipping it in the cup of water, he began to dab at the gash. Although this wasn't as painful as it would have been with peroxide, Randy couldn't help but squirm uncomfortably as his teacher worked to rub the dirt and fuzz from Randy's shirt away. Every stroke created a terrible stinging sensation that made Randy want to push his teacher's hands away.

Finally, after what felt like several hours, his teacher was done with the bite wound. As he began wrapping the white bandages around Randy's belly, Randy opened his mouth to speak, his thoughts starting to work up again, no longer focused on the pain.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"This might be a stupid question, but are you human? Or are you like NomiRandy? Like, a magic hologram or something?"

The Nomicon let out a small laugh as he finished covering up Randy's wound.

"A magic hologram?"

"Um, well yeah."

The Nomicon let out another chuckle, smiling. Randy felt his face beginning to burn up again. He didn't see what was funny about a magic hologram, but now he felt silly for saying it.

"Well, to answer your question, yes, I am human, and I was born as a human," the Nomicon said, still smiling. "But I am also a book, or as you know me, 'the Nomicon'."

"How is that possible? Is it like a spell?"

The Nomicon's smile faded from his face.

"Something like that, yes."

Randy blinked, startled. From the way that the Nomicon visibly tensed up, Randy could tell that he was uncomfortable. But he couldn't help but ask another question.

"How did you do that? Could you teach me how to do that?"

"It's a long story, but I can't teach you." The Nomicon picked up the cotton balls, avoiding Randy's gaze. "You have some cuts on your arms."

"Oh. Right."

Randy stopped asking questions. For several minutes, the room was filled with a stifling silence, as the Nomicon cleaned and patched up Randy's arms. Eventually though, Randy couldn't keep quiet any longer. His mind was racing, because he was thinking about how weird it was that he was referring to his now human teacher as if he were still an object.

"So, do you have another name, or is your name really 'Nomicon'?"

"Well, actually, my real name is Nomi," his teacher responded, the tension from his voice gone, replaced with a natural serenity. "But I don't care what you call me."

"No, I like Nomi. It's, uh, it's nice."

Nomi chuckled.

"Thank you."

Randy nodded shyly, looking down as Nomi finished putting the last band aid on his arm. He stared down at his covered torso in curiosity. Although his body still ached with cuts and bruises, Randy was starting to feel much better.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Nomi asked.

"Nah."

He didn't mention that his legs were sore, finding no real need to. He was pretty sure those were just bruises.

"Good." Nomi picked up the band aid wrapping paper scraps, balling them up in his hand. He put them and the cup of water on the floor and picked up the bottle of ibuprofen. "You can take two or three of these, depending on how much pain you are in. Do you need water?"

"No, I've got a water bottle in my bag."

"Okay."

As Randy took two ibuprofen tablets, Nomi cleaned up the scraps, gathered up the first aid supplies, and took Randy's discarded clothes, before leaving to return them to their proper places. He came back a few minutes later with a long sleeved black shirt. Randy remembered that he had left that shirt on his desk chair last week.

"You should probably put this on." Nomi handed Randy the shirt.

"Thanks."

Randy put the shirt on, being careful not to irritate his wounds. Nomi didn't sit down, his arms crossed tightly.

"I should go," he said quietly. "Back into the Nomicon."

"What? Why?"

Randy felt a tight knot beginning to form at the bottom of his stomach. He didn't want Nomi to leave. Despite the fact that he was very much used to being alone in the house, he had been excited with the idea of having someone to talk to. Usually his mother arrived home very late, and he always felt lonely when she was gone. Although he had grown accustomed to the long hours of alone time, he liked the idea of company.

"Ah, well, I'm not sure it would be such a good idea," Nomi replied, looking down. "I don't want to get you in trouble when your mother comes home. Besides, it is not in my place to make myself at home in your house."

"I promise, it wouldn't be bad if you stayed here for a while," Randy insisted. "My mom doesn't get home until like one in the morning, and you're completely welcome here. Isn't it boring being a book?"

"Not really. You've been inside the Nomicon. It's quite comfortable."

"Please?"

Nomi looked up at Randy, dark red eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Do you actually _want_ me to stay? You don't have to be polite."

"I'm not being polite. You would be doing me a favor. It's boring here with nobody else to talk to."

"Er..."

Randy suddenly felt a pang of guilt ring in his chest.

"I mean, I don't want to force you either. You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

Nomi paused.

"I wouldn't mind. At least, as long as you don't."

"Seriously, I don't mind at all."

Randy buried his hands in the baggy sleeves of his shirt, grabbing at the material and balling it up in his fists. He became momentarily distracted by the new warmth the sleeves provided to his hands.

Nomi finally spoke.

"Okay. I guess I can stay. At least, until your mom gets home."

"Bruce!" Randy bounced once in his seat excitedly, but then squawked, his bite screaming angrily in response. " _Ow_!"

"Careful!" Nomi sat back down on the couch, facing Randy. "Are you okay?"

Randy laughed, grimacing in pain. Sometimes he was able to laugh at his own clumsiness. There was just something amusing about the fact that it was so easy for him to get hurt, when he wasn't even intending for it to happen. Randy had grown used to being able to laugh at himself. It was either laugh with everyone else, or feel even more different from everyone else.

"Yeah dude, I'm okay," Randy grinned. "Happens all the time."

Nomi sighed.

"Yes, I noticed. You're as much of a clutz as my brother. It's amazing that neither of you have…" Nomi stopped. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "...ah, nothing."

"Wait, what?"

"Hey, don't you have homework?"

Randy's thoughts were immediately occupied by the stated fact. He let out a helpless whine.

"Ug. Yeah." Randy leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes. "Too much homework."

"It can't be that bad."

"Maybe for a smart person," Randy said miserably. "Or at least the average person."

Randy meant what he said. He was hopelessly aware of how easy it was for everyone else around him to keep up. That only made school that much harder for him to face. It was hard to stay motivated when he knew he was going to fail. Even when he _tried_ to keep up.

"You say that as if you think you're stupid," Nomi pointed out.

Randy kept his eyes closed, too drained to open them.

"Well, you've seen how long it takes me to figure out your ninja riddles."

"It doesn't matter. You still learn from them."

"Haha. Right."

"I mean it, Randy. You've come a long way from when you first got that mask."

Randy took a moment to run Nomi's words over in his brain. When he thought back to the first month of his ninth grade year, he became embarrassed with how immature he remembered himself behaving.

"I guess you're right," he admitted. "But still, that's ninja stuff. It's easier to punch things than to study."

Nomi chuckled dryly.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah! I mean, at least there's not as much thinking involved when you're fighting."

"That's because you already practiced beforehand."

Eyes still closed, Randy ran his fingers through his hair. It was starting to get greasy again. He wondered briefly if his mother would notice.

"I've been taking the same science class for almost two years. You'd think by now _something_ would have stuck."

"You're that behind?"

Randy sighed. He opened his eyes and looked at Nomi. Instead of looking upset or disappointed, like most adults he talked to, the boy was simply frowning at him, appearing simply curious. It made the tension ease from his shoulders.

"Yeah," Randy admitted. "I'm really confused."

Nomi was silent for a moment. He seemed to be in deep thought, brows tightly knit together.

"If you are interested," Nomi started slowly, "I could try to help you. I know biology pretty well, and it's not like I'm busy."

Randy looked up at the ceiling. His instincts told him to scream 'yes', but he held himself back, unsure.

"You don't have to do that. I'm not very easy to tutor."

"I'm your teacher, Randy. It's no trouble."

Sitting up, he turned to face his teacher once more.

"I mean, that would be great, but I'm literally clueless. Are you sure you want to do that to yourself?"

Nomi scoffed.

"I've been teaching students for centuries. It shouldn't be that hard to tutor you. Nobody is unteachable."

Randy grimaced.

"If you say so."

...

 **AN:**

 **Ahh. Well, this was fun. I like writing about Human!Nomicon. Fun. ;)**

 **Gah. Life has been crazy. I hit another block again, and my anxiety has been awful! Even though I've had the majority of this written for a while now, I was so on edge that I couldn't even think straight. These last few weeks have been pretty uncomfortable. I'm so glad I seem to be doing better now.**

 **By the way, I keep forgetting to use a disclaimer for Nomi. Obviously, the idea for a human Nomicon was not my own. We can all thank NotNights (that's the name, right?) for this wonderful character.**

 **Although, I will say this. Mikoto, who is Nomi's brother, and also the result of a Human!Tengu design (it may be hard to tell at this point because I've only mentioned him having feathers, but yes, he is part tengu) is my own character. I don't know if anyone else has had the idea of a human tengu, but I wouldn't be surprised if I wasn't the first one to toy with that idea. And actually, if you know of another fic with this concept, please tell me about it in your reviews! I'd love to see another interpretation of a human tengu! :3 There's so much you can do with that, and I'd love to see what someone else has had in mind!**

 **However, please do not use my character without my permission. I've been working with Mikoto for a really long time now, so I'm pretty protective of him. Yet, I'd be happy to help anyone brainstorm about their own characters. We all need a hand now and then! ;)**

 **So, thoughts? What do you guys think?**

 **I've got a fun challenge. I've given a few hints so far about the pasts of certain characters, and about what may happen later in the fic. If you guys can point anything out, or predict anything from my foreshadowing, maybe I'll do a little one-shot story request or an art request for those of you who guess certain details first! (I'm a pretty okay drawer. My profile pic is an example of what I can do, although at this point it's a tiny bit old, considering my skill and style has changed since I drew it.)**

 **So, just a heads up, I expect to be slow getting chapter five together. I've been out of school for over a week now, and although I'll be excused from some assignments, it's still gonna be a bit of extra work catching up. So the next chapter may not be ready until maybe mid November, worst case scenario.**

 **Well, take care now! ;) Hope you all enjoyed! Don't forget to review! And thank you for those of you who have followed and reviewed so far! Your support is very helpful, and definitely gives me a bit of a boost on my lazier days! Sometimes we all need an extra kick to get us off the couch and away from Nutella. (Okay, lies. If I see Nutella, I'm going for it no matter what. XD)**


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